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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188594">Painted Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/derwent/pseuds/derwent'>derwent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stoker (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Community: ladiesbingo, Gen, On the Run, Serial Killers, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/derwent/pseuds/derwent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn doesn't really recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror. She finds that she doesn't mind, not anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ladies Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Painted Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU where India takes Evelyn with her at the end of the movie. Originally a prompt I wrote for my Shipoween exchange letter. Surprisingly, I later got the idea to fill it myself.</p><p>Fill for the prompt 'Season of Mists (Autumn Colours, Sensations, Activities, and Festivals)' on <a href="https://derwent-f.dreamwidth.org/5093.html">my ladiesbingo card</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning sunlight filters in through the closed curtains, coloring the room with a coral tinge.</p><p>It’s the first sight Evelyn sees when she opens her eyes. She rolls over and finds the other bed empty and neatly made. They are mother and daughter again this time. Sometimes they are sisters, or aunt and niece. Sometimes they are colleagues, sometimes friends, and sometimes – sometimes India wraps an arm around her waist and smiles that charming smile she so generously throws to other people. Only Evelyn knows the smile is empty, as it always is.</p><p>The clock tells her it’s half past nine. There’s nothing to tell her how long India’s been gone. Not that it matters. India always comes back, always finds Evelyn again no matter how far she runs.</p><p>She gets up and walks with unsure steps to the en-suite bathroom. The water pressure is surprisingly strong, and the cold water startles her. She doesn’t bother turning it warm.</p><p>These days her hair reaches down her waist. The last time it was this long, she had been a child. It’s too long for her taste, and yet she doesn’t really feel like cutting it off. It makes it easier not to recognize the person she sees in the mirror. </p><p>Most of the time, anyway.</p><p>She finishes showering in less than five minutes. Long, indulgent showers and bath are a thing of the past, back when she could close her eyes and not see blood tainting the water red. </p><p>With their limited wardrobe, it doesn’t take her long to pick her outfit. Then she sits down on the small vanity, facing her reflection. Her fingers travel over the few makeup palettes she owns, all soft nude colors that are nothing like her former vast collection, now gaining dust in their home. India chooses them for her, these days. Sometimes Evelyn still feels India’s soft phantom grip on her arm, that day when they went shopping for the first time since they got into the car and drove away. She was reaching for a favorite bold red lipstick, but India had stopped her, saying "I want to see you" in her calm, commanding voice. So now Evelyn wears barely-there colors she can’t hide behind.</p><p>The door swings open, and India walks inside, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag on the other. She can guess what’s inside: pastry for breakfast, just the way she likes it. Sure enough, when India sets them down on the table, the smell of freshly-baked pastry wafts out from the bag. </p><p>As Evelyn nibbles her breakfast, India opens the curtain and windows. Fresh air crawls inside. A tree nearby stands half-naked, leaves in browns, reds, and yellows falling down. She watches India watching the town going about its business, and wonders if India’s chosen their next victim yet. </p><p>Then India returns to her bed, shedding off her blouse and skirt for her pink nightgown, the one Evelyn bought in their former life. Before Evelyn can voice her confusion, she answers, “There’s an annual autumn festival in two weeks. It’s pretty well-known; attracts plenty of tourists. We’ll have better chance finding someone there.”</p><p>It makes sense, of course. No one would notice a stranger missing, or the two female visitors leaving. Just people passing by in their journeys.</p><p>India’s still looking at her from where she lies down on her bed. Evelyn finishes her coffee and decides not to bother with makeup.</p>
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